


Of Gambits and Gains

by TheMockingCrows



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Memory Loss, Pranking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-25
Updated: 2011-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-28 03:40:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMockingCrows/pseuds/TheMockingCrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave Strider just woke up naked in his own bed. With John Egbert beside him in the buff. He spots a well formed bite mark on John's neck, an open bottle of lube, and a huge gulf in his memory of the previous night. What on Earth happened?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Gambits and Gains

**Author's Note:**

> Homestuck and its characters are obviously owned by Andrew Hussie. This was written in a fervor a week ago, and edited in a state of panic as a way of calming myself down. Enjoy!

Dave rolled onto his side, hiking his leg out from under the blanket and up toward his chest, mimicking a high diver aiming for the extra point. That position failed to last longer than a minute before he shifted again, hands flying up behind his head and beneath his pillow. Comfort eluded him. A low growl rose from his throat as he kicked both feet again, lurching the blanket off the bed entirely and arching his back from the mattress, rolling to smash his face flat into the sheets.

“Ugh.. Stop thrashing, would you..?”

“Yeah, man. Chill. Just trying to get my sleep back on.”

Yes.

Wait.

What?

Who?

Dave froze when his mind caught up with his mouth. The epitome of chill, slowly turning his head to look towards the origin of the voice even as he slowly lowered his torso to press flat back onto his mattress. One crimson eye opened, sneaking a peek at what his keen ears already knew was there. John Egbert was beside him. In his bed. Without a scrap of clothing on. Not even thestupid Slimer shorts he was notorious for.

With a growing awareness of the previously comfortable draft, Dave then became aware of another fact: He was likewise in the buff. A very bad situation. Should Lil Cal, or Gog forbid his Bro see him like this with John… No. No, we do not freak out. Dave? Freak out? Over something like this? Never. No. Not in a million years!

John stretched as though he were waking up.

Maybe.

Make that a maybe bordering on a fuck yes, doing an acrobatic flip off the fucking chill handle into Seriously-Not-Okay-Ville.

He managed to reach to his bedside table and snatch his shades, slapping them on and feigning sleep just as Egbert opened his bright blue eyes. Honestly, he wished he’d waited just a second longer, so he could see the color clearer. Robins egg, with a hint of sapphire. Always a little darker early in the day, blooming with light in the afternoon, then getting dark and gray as he finally wore out before bed.

Wait.

What?

Dave Strider did NOT just wax poetic about his best bros eyes. Dave Strider does NOT think that way about his best bro. Dave Strider is NOT getting an erection.

Strike that. He is. He is also extremely thankful that he’s laying face first on the mattress so as not to make it any more obvious. He tried to will it away as the derp stretched and slowly sat up, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands. Even at nineteen, he still acted like such a child. His breathing slowed to nearly a halt, body like stone. Ironically, of course.

“Nngh.. Da- oh! God, he’s still asleep.. Guess I should be quiet.”

John did not actually just say that out loud. Yes. He did. He always thinks aloud, a bad habit from too many years spent talking online with friends instead of getting them locally. Not to mention being a huge nerd like that, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. Dave dared to crack an eye open, wondering why he hadn’t moved to get up yet.

John hadn’t moved because, Dave found, he was quietly observing him, eyes scanning his pale skin from foot to head. His buck teeth were out, worrying his bottom lip as his face slowly flushed a deep red. Dave resisted the urge to quirk a brow and waggle it, and instead decided to up the ante a little bit to see what would happen. He flexed his legs in a slow stretch and rolled onto his side, keeping the goodies away from Egbert’s line of sight, but making no effort to hide the cash and prizes.

Predictably, John finally moved, but not in the way he’d expected. Instead of hopping right up to catch a peek at the world’s rarest species of crotch dachshund, he lay back down behind him.  A ghosting of fingertips, warm and very soft for a guys, stroked up the back of his neck before slipping down to his shoulders, kneading over the patches of faint freckles that nested there.

A good morning backrub to the sleeping nude body of your best friend is not gay. It’s ironic. Somehow. It’s got to be ironic somehow. Dave frowned. He couldn’t find a single thing about this that wasn’t gay.. yet he wasn’t bothered by it. At all. Welcomed it, in fact, as long as it was John. It had been a tentative dance he’d been rocking for many years, traipsing in the no-man’s land of fence sitting.  He’d refused to outright say he was gay, despite never having any feeling behind his empty words of pleasing future ladies into vapors. Guys never did the trick either, however, leaving him in this awkward as fuck world of being asexually cool.

John, however.. His frown softened to a bemused line. He’d gone through Sburb with him, seen things that nobody else could ever understand. They’d stayed in closer touch afterwards, spending as much time as possible together, feeding off the raw balance they’d established. Suave coolness balanced by aderpable goofball like a perfect scale.

Wait.

What?

‘Aderpable’? What the fuck kind of language is that? That type of language is neither cool, nor ironic. Yet it fit, as solidly as a warm cup of coffee fills you on a cold day. The only thing not fitting with his calm wonderings if there was such as thing as being homo-bi-hetero-sexual for only John was the growing awareness of hands running over his body from behind. The same soft fingers stroking around the front of his throat, down over his lean chest, tugging his waist back slightly towards his own lap as those inquisitive fingers probed his abs.

The exploration was just getting interesting as John’s fingers began sliding down further, further.. then stopping and pulling away all together. He was sitting upright again, pushing off the mattress with a squeaky protest of worn springs. He crossed the floor to the opposite side, crouching low to dig through his backpack for a change of clothes. No idea that this was providing a fantastic show for Dave.

Long legs he’d finally grown into, a square torso that refused to settle into muscle despite all his work with hammers. His arms showed it, bulked up quite a lot even in these few years, muscles flexing slightly as he pulled out what he needed. Dave’s eyes were appreciating the curve of his ass, one pale brow shooting skyward despite his insistence that it remain down, until he spotted John rubbing at a spot on his neck. A deep bruise, about the size of three silver dollars, plastered on the side of his neck where it met the shoulder like a brand.

A hickey. No, a bite mark. A damn good one, too, from the look of it. John pulled on boxers and a t-shirt,throwing a pair of jeans over his shoulder as he tucked his toothbrush into its pocket. He paused at the door, looking back at Dave with a grin. Two steps brought him back around to grab the blanket from the floor and toss it over his skinny ass, saving his modesty from the outside world as he practically skipped out to the bathroom.

Dave sat bolt upright after the door clicked shut, assessing himself to see if there were any signs of what was missing on his body. Something had to have happened. He had no idea what, though. He clapped his hands over his ears, blocking out the outside worlds noises as though he were DJing with his cans on. Nothing was coming to mind, so what was the last thing he COULD remember?

Pizza. The last thing he certainly remembered was pizza, because John kept trying to force him to take a bite of pizza he’d splashed liberally with gushers like some mutant candy abortion. They’d settled in to watch TV afterwards, then turning on Bro’s XBOX to continue the epic struggle between Mileena and SubZero that they’d been deadlocked into from the last installment, with the added bonus of x-ray damage viewing with the jiggle.

They’d come into his room then, late at night, and logged onto his computer to surf around YouTube and the net. Then.. Nothing. No clue. He didn’t even remember getting into bed.  Feeling his heckles raise, he pondered if the little dweeb had finally snapped and slipped him something, or tricked him somehow. He wasn’t sure about John being gay, or at least bisexual before the sudden touching earlier, but.. The opened bottle of lubricant he spotted on his bedside table made him shudder, snatching it up with every intent to throw it at a wall or into the trash in an epic Freak the Fuck Out x5 combo.

The combo was not initiated, however, for it would have been too lame by his standards. He needed to calm down even more. He capped it and put it back into place as he stood up and pulled on boxers and a set of jeans, slinging a t-shirt over his shoulder to be applied later as he saw fit. This left a serious problem in his book. Not the one you’d be thinking, either. He’d come to terms with the severe probability of molesting his best friend faster than a hobo snarfing a meatball sub. He only wished he knew how far everything went, if the lubricant hadn’t been for a fantastic handjob or something. His only worry was if he was good, if John had enjoyed it, if it was worthwhile. He vaguely wished he still had his time abilities, to go back and observe the happenings, just to verify his concerns. Or take notes.

Dave headed down the hallway, padding quickly to check the futon in the living room. No Bro. He must have left earlier than he expected. They never discussed his schedule openly, but he remembered a few weeks back hearing him bitch loudly about having to haul his carcass to the state line for some big bash that was paying three times the price for a DJ as long as they could deal with a crowd twice the size of stupid and ten times as loud.

The combination of no Bro lurking around and an itching urge to learn more about that bite mark sent Dave into the bathroom without knocking, flash stepping to the toilet like it was the most natural thing in the world. He had every intention of flicking the handle down and scalding the poor derp, but had a change of heart at the last moment, sitting down on the lid instead. The steam fogged his shades, making seeing even more impossible than usual, the world closing off in the white wall of heat and flush. It reminded him of being on LoHaC again.

The derp had begun warbling like a mutilated songbird, all heart and no pitch to be found. Dave was briefly reminded of a comic he saw as a kid, Calvin and Hobbes, where Calvin pretends he’s a song sparrow and belts out the meatball song he heard once in a movie somewhere even longer ago than that. A ghost of a smile passes his lips, cheeks warming. That did it. John had always been sweet, open and endearing to him. He’d loved him, most likely, since the first moment they spoke, the first moment the webcams clicked on. That one moment when he heard him giggle at a lame joke and snort like a pig, lamely trying to hide it. But John singing in the shower, in his shower, after they’d apparently spent a night together in the throes of passion touched him in a way he assumed nothing could be cool enough to touch.

He’d been groped emotionally by the world’s biggest, sweetest, lamest nerd.

Dave Strider is suddenly, totally okay with the thought of being groped by a nerd.

Emotionally.

Yes, emotionally, not literally.

Well, only if he WANTED to literally.

Wait.

Wha-. OH FORGET IT.

He steeled himself, removing his shades and setting them on sink, stepping out of his clothes and walking to the shower stall. He gripped the handle firmly for a moment before clearing his throat.

“John, dude, prepare for a shower buddy. Hot water doesn’t last long in this shitty apartment, and I have audiences to please with daisy freshness and fucking legit kawaii-itude.”

“D-Dave I don’t think that’s a very good--!” John yells, scrabbling like crazy under the water as the door gets yanked wide open, nude Strider sauntering in. He ignored John, refusing to look at him at all as he headed under the water himself, soaking his hair and shaking it off like a wet dog, reaching for the shampoo bottle. Just need to act like this is totally on purpose, completely normal. Not locating it, he turned to ask where John had hidden it, when he heard a loud clunk.

The big shiny eyes of an off brand cartoon character stare up at him, dented, from the floor of the shower stall. Pink bubbles of blood are already beginning to seep out from where the cap had broken on the floor of the shower. John is staring like a deer infatuated with headlights, mouth slightly open, eyes huge, hands held slightly up.Dave raised his eyebrows in tandem this time for effect, red eyes taking full advantage of the moment to look him up and down, taking in the gangly stance and the growing erection. Huh, so that’s how it works. He drops a boner like a bad habit, John picks it up and gives it a home.

“John. What. You just killed Miss Wiggy, you might as well offer me a conversation to help me recover from the loss.”

“I… I didn’t think you’d just.. come in here so.. “ He snapped out of it, flushing a deep red as he realized where he’d been staring. “Come in here so suddenly! What gives? Privacy? This is a thing I knew.”

“It’s a thing that USED to happen. You’re not in Washington anymore. Now, care to give me that soap? Miss Wiggy has a use yet.” He’d pieced together what John was staring at, judging by how much deeper red his face and cock became as he tilted his head under the water, rivulets of water trailing down through frosty blonde hair and over pale freckled skin. Dave held a hand out expectantly, jutting his hip to show impatience until the shampoo was in his hand, going onto his hair. Apparently it was working.

John shuffled his feet. He made small huffing noises as he tried to breathe through his panic. He finally got tired of standing still and grabbed the wash cloth and soap, stealing shots of water from Dave whenever he turned to give a more obvious show before turning to face the wall and lather up. This proved to be too simple to a natural predator like Dave.

Grabbing  the washcloth would have been far too cliché. He wanted this memorable for John, or at least for himself since his asshat of a memory couldn’t be bothered to remember the single most important moment of his young life. Upset?

No.

Hardly.

A lot.

A challenge was in order.

At the risk of sounding like Karkat, Dave knew he had to make Past Dave look like a nimrod compared to Alpha Dave. The timeline boogaloo was far from over. Gauntlet thrown at his past, he reached over with a strong grip and snagged John around the waist, left hand snaking forward to grab the soap. As predicted, John bucked like a wild animal, forcing Dave to dig callous roughened fingers into the muscle, trying to knead the flesh there to relax him.

“D-Dave, what are you doing?! Come on, haha, irony, yeah, get off!” He continued squirming.

“I will in a minute.” Dave raised the soap up, slipping it against John’s chest, then slipping lower in small circles. “At least, that’s if you’re up for another round..?” He lidded his eyes, looking at him with his head cocked, hoping it looked at good as some of his past photography sessions have led him to believe.

Apparently, it did. John relaxed, sagging visibly before tentatively backing into his chest. The washcloth fell, forgotten, to the drain. The water hummed on, soaking his black hair into more of a mop than usual, sluicing down his face. His buckteeth appeared, impish, as he smiled shyly.  “Already? After all that last night..? So demanding. But..” He turned to look behind him, resting his head on Dave’s bicep for effect, blue eyes darkening as his lids dropped in a surprisingly erotic manner. “Since you’re so insistent..”

Score.

Literally.

Okay, that was lame even by ironic standards.

Irony slipped his mind, however,  when the normally shy boy that he held wriggled around like an eel in his arms, slipping up on his tiptoes to plant a kiss on his mouth, arms lifting to encircle his neck. He felt a tongue lapping gently at his lips, seeking entrance and gaining it even as he started to let out a very uncool moan. Dave raised his output in bass by taking it into a deep growl instead, kneading the hips he still held before forcefully lifting them up and planting them against the slick shower wall, pinning the smaller boy with his own.

John whined slightly, but never once broke the kiss, arms flexing to lift himself up off the ground even as Dave’s hands began lifting him up higher, raising him until his erect member slipped wetly against the others. They ground against each other as much as water slicked skin would allow, fingers scratching desperately at skin, spittle sliding down their faces as they sought to devour the other whole. The action only stopped when the water began to get slowly cooler, finally spitting the equivalent of barely melted ice cubes . Dave squawked loudly when the first sharp splash of cold hit him, John flailing wildly and slapping the water off before slipping down to his feet.

Dave cursed slightly, catching a breath he hadn’t realized he’d lost during the impromptu make out session.

“God damnit, I was fucking kidding about the hot water. Why now?!” He huffed like a child, not even caring how uncool it was.

“Dave, really, it’s okay!” John laughed, snorting slightly before opening the door and stepping out, pulling a towel off the rack and loosely over his body. “It’s not like we could have stayed in there forever.. and besides!” He hung the towel around his neck, legs spreading to take on a cocky stance, hands planted firmly on the hips still red with grip marks. “I think I’d much prefer lying down than getting it on in a slippery shower. Too many drop the soap jokes. My pranksters gambit wouldn’t have survived.” Towel still hanging around his neck, John left the bathroom, leaving the door open as he saunted saucily back towards Dave’s bedroom.

The Knight must be back in action.

No time had passed between John snarkily swaggering away and the bed appearing beneath him.

No time had passed between his bewildered smile and his blue eyes turning into dinner plates.

No time had passed between him regretting his cock feeling so cold and it suddenly being gripped firmly and pumped within an inch of its life and his sanity.

Time had passed extraordinarily slow for Dave, though even fast times seemed to give you time to ponder.

He’d considered putting on his shades, and wandering slowly in after John, saying some lame line and leaving. That consideration took three seconds.

He’d considered finding something to eat and showing up with breakfast in bed for him, the seduce him. That consideration took ten.

He’d considered doing something completely retarded, like questioning why John suddenly had the upper hand and getting intimidated and running away to jack off like a coward. That consideration took less time than is possible to measure.

He’d considered racing like hell on wheels after him, tackling him onto his bed, molesting him within an inch of his life and assaulting his dorky body with everything he possessed. This considering was being enacted even as the thought continued to form in his mind.

Scooping him, pinning him with his own body and grabbing the derp’s dick happened in one smooth motion. Without his glasses John’s eyes looked brighter than ever, becoming cloudy as he gasped and moaned, writhing under the merciless ministrations of the dominating Strider force. His back arched off the bed as he rutted into the hand that encircled him, arms raising, wrapping around his neck to bring him close, trying to mash his mouth into Dave’s.

“John..” He murmured this as he slowed the pumping, much to the heirs displeasure. “About last night..”

Dave’s breath hitched, words dying in this throat as John belted out the loudest moan yet, scrabbling beneath him. He cocked his head to figure out what was going on, only to realize that John had snaked a hand to the lubricant bottle, poured some messily on his own hand, and began inserting two fingers into himself in time with the original frantic thrusts he’d been receiving from the hand.

He appeared to know EXACTLY what needed to be done, no amount of pleasure being repressed as he rolled his slim shoulders, dark hair falling loose and damp over his eyes, staying shut as he was lost in the feeling, searching for something that thus far remained hidden. John apparently found what he wanted after a few moments, Dave having all but stopped moving his hand to watch the ecstasy roll over his face, as he let out a loud groan. His arm began moving faster, hips rocking to rut into the now entirely stilled hand. 

No. Can’t let him do that. Striders run the ship, they don’t just stand by saying ‘What a lovely fucking day it is to circumnavigate Portland’ or some shit. He waited until John bucked his hips once more, hands fast as lightning to drop their grip on his dick and latch onto both hips instead, stilling him. He loomed, using size to his advantage as a startled John ceased his writhing, looking up at him with eyes that proclaimed he not only kicked a puppy but canceled Christmas. Twice.

“W-what is it, Dave? Isn’t this what you like..?”  He removed his fingers with a shudder at his pokerfaced stare, arms dropping sheepishly to his sides, suddenly very aware of how he must have looked. He flushed a dark red, eyes narrowing slightly to make out the expression on the others face, breath still coming in short gasps.

“I like it, John. I like it a lot. The thing of it is..” Dave slipped his left hand down a pale thigh, squeezing possessively before scooping behind his knee to haul him into a better position, settled on his knees between his legs. “I don’t like spectator sports. If I’m not on the field, it doesn’t exist.” Erect and ready, the head prodded John’s entrance, stretching the slick skin he found there. With every intention to thrust ahead and get this show on the road, he was stopped by John suddenly struggling and crying, “WAIT!”

“Wait for WHAT? This isn’t a thing that can wait, Egbert! Very urgent message, needs to be delivered in the form of an epic follow up. News at 11.” He frowned down as he sat up on his knees, trying to give John room to do whatever it was he was trying to do.

The lubricant bottle had been snatched again and opened, a copious amount being slathered onto his dick by Johns shaking hands. “I might be ready, but.. It’ll hurt REALLY bad if you don’t use this much. I’m serious, man.”

“That all?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t want to get hurt.”

“Completely understandable.” Dave sank forward again, slowly breaching the ring of muscle once his elbows rested on either side of John’s chest, not trying to move too fast. Honestly, he couldn’t move quickly yet if he wanted to, between how tightly John’s body gripped him and how intense this felt. Past him was even more of an asshole for having let him forget this, yet was simultaneously forgiven for allowing him to feel this for the first time all over again.

He felt shaking beneath him, heard whining and gentle groans. John shifted around to find a comfortable position as Dave continued slowly settling in, whimpering whenever he slipped a little too fast. Wow. If he was this uncomfortable now, how bad was it last night? A pang of guilt hit him when he finally heard a quiet sob.

“John?” He stilled, arms scooting closer to his torso in a hug, mouth lifting to plant comforting kisses on his wet cheeks, on his eyelids, on his lips. He shifted his weight carefully, snaking his right hand between their bodies to grip John’s penis again, pumping it to take his mind off the pain. “Sssssshh… It’s okay. I’ve got you. I promise.”

The sobbing gave way to a surprised hiss and a moan, his legs relaxing and widening even more after a few seconds. Within a minute, Dave was firmly seated within him, bodies flush as he held still, mind officially blown. He was most definitely John-sexual. This was it. The best ever. Forever. Only him, only this warm tangle of limbs and sweat and sweetness, this musk of sex and John. Only John. HIS JOHN.

He gave his hips an experimental roll before judging it safe to deliver a shallow thrust. The loud moan egged him on as he began setting a tempo, breath hitching every other thrust, hand still moving on John to keep him rolling in bliss.

Strong fingers wound through white blonde hair, nails raking gently along his back, his chest, his arms. He felt touches everywhere, butterfly soft, viciously heated. There was so much warmth, so much heat. Heat from the body beneath him, fire in his mouth, shooting from his fingers. The fire would drive him mad, spurring his motions to wilder thrusts even as John’s heels dug into the mattress to lift up and meet him. He was vaguely aware of the loud squeaking, the headboard hitting the wall in time with the symphony of moans and gasps and cries, how funny it sounded. Like something out of a shitty movie.

From his years of becoming a masturbatory master, he knew his time was limited, and decided he would be DAMNED if he shot off before John had. He wanted to beat his past self even in this department, just to make sure all of his bases were covered. He increased his thrusting’s fervor, hips rolling sharply to hit the sweet spot of his prostate as his hand moved steadily in time. He felt John squeeze his legs up around his waist, crying out loudly as every move hit home.

He ran his tongue over John’s earlobe, over his collar bone, tasting him, savoring him, devouring him whole. He felt his body shake as he came hard, spattering his hand and their stomachs with the sticky mess. The pressure was too much, driving him mad. Crazed, on the brink, Dave growled loudly in triumph and bit the side of his neck, drawing blood even as he began the most intense orgasm of his life.

It was a few moments before he became aware that he did indeed own arms and legs. He did have to breathe. He did have to get off of John before he crushed him. He shuddered and pulled out, flopping onto his back to pant, to ponder how the fuck he would regain his strength to go clean up, how he’d never done this to John years before now, how this opened up an entirely new can of worms as far as balancing friendship with blatant homosexual feelings went.

He raised his clean hand to wipe the sweat away from his eyes, rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth, tasting blood.

Blood?

FUCK.

Dave remembered biting him like some crazed animal, wanting to pin him down helpless beneath him as he finished, wanting to mark him. With this amount of blood, a mark was assured. John was already sporting one, which made him feel guilty about adding another to the shrine on his new lovers neck. He vaguely wondered if Bro was a biter too, before he groaned and looked over to check on John.

“Hey.. You okay, man?”

Silence.

“Come on, talk to me.. You okay? That was pretty intense, huh..”

Still nothing, though he was now starting to move, laying on his side, away from Dave. He shook gently, no sound.

“…Oh god, did I hurt you or something? Egbert, come on, answer me!” He reached out and touched the bite mark, frowning. “Look, this one’ll heal over just fine. I mean, look at the othe-“

The mark was gone.

Just.. fucking disappeared. Not even a bruise.

“….John, where is that giant hickey you had on your neck this morning?”

“It’s gone.”

“….Where did it GO? Because it sure as fuck didn’t decide to picnic anywhere else on your body. Hickeys don’t move!”

“They do if they were stage makeup that got washed off in a shower in Texas.”

“Hickey’s don’t wash off in the sho-“ He paused. “…What.”

Another shaking of the body, faint snorts and snickers letting him know he was indeed laughing. At him. Finally he could take it no more, belting out a loud series of giggles even as his body sagged tiredly. Dave worked up the energy to prop himself up on his elbows.

“Egbert. What the FUCK?”

“I… well.. I’m leaving for Washington next week, right?”

“What the fuck does you going home have anything to do with what just happened.”

“I wanted to make sure we were together before I left. I wanted a parting gift… aaaaaand incentive that you’d come visit really REALLY soon.”

“…You tricked me?” His thoughts raced, a feeling in his stomach making him feel a little ill. “You actually tricked me. About something like this..?”

“…Should I not have?” John looked at him, giggles ceasing immediately, suddenly very scared he’d done something unfixable. “I really wanted this, and you didn’t seem too against the idea, so I just thou-“

Dave flash rolled faster than he could trace, covering his mouth too fast, bumping into this derpy teeth full force. He stayed in position for a moment before pushing him back down onto the mattress, left hand sliding up his chest and resting on his cheek, thumb stroking the cheekbone gently.

“Egbert. John. Seriously.. Have you had any idea how much time we’ve already wasted? I never acted because I was worried your no-homo stance was firm, and that it’d ruin our friendship. You never acted because I can only assume you were too much of a dweeb to make the first move. Until now. I’m not mad, just… REALLY fucking surprised. Can I ask a favor?”

“Huh? Uh… sure, man. What?”

“Never make me wait that long again.”


End file.
